R H Politz

How To Write Your Articles for Successful Submission to Publications.

2012-02-26T08:51:00.001-08:00

Me and him were learnt right off to writ things and spell
so I let him do edits and whistles and bells.
Me I'm just a-wonderin f'I'd done things all right
cause dang it to heck I been writting all night.
My perfect one catagory ain't so easy to choose
cause me and my bro had drunk all the booze
But we'll sure give your structions our best drunken try
and find all those keywords like writ, love and spy.

Y'all want a description to put in subscriptions
but I ain't got no words left to add to your listin's
So guess we'll go back to the still and it stoke
and then me and him can just be the blokes
who make the best moonshine in all of the hills,
east of the rockies and west of the mills.

Aww, ferget all the writting and tend to the still.
I'm thirstier than drymouths wasy up on that hill.
Git'cher boots off the desk. Fill my glass with some swill
Me and you got some drinkin and bellies to fill.

(Author's note: I tried to do a follow-up with these two colorful characters but they had already moved on to "Rapper" fame.) R. H. Politz

The Age of Innocence - Gone Forever!

2012-02-15T09:54:00.000-08:00

"I am the age of the wind, bent like the top of a costal pine tree, young as the flowers of spring, shaped like the clouds on a blustery morn and mysterious as the moonlit shadows dancing through the moors on an October night.

I have counted naught the circles I've made round the sun but, instead, remembered the many lives I've lived and people I've been; each different from the other, each unique and each unrecognizable one to the other.

By day, a white whisp, by night, a lethal mist, to some a savior, to others their demise but to myself, a ghost, nonexistent, a never was nor ever shall be; I exist only in the ether of imagination sometimes in life and always in death for I am alone. And that is as it should be... forever."

R. H. Politz

Death of a friend

2012-01-28T10:16:00.000-08:00

Every day, every minute, people are born and others die. When it's close to you, it matters. It makes you realize just how everything slips away and how life goes on with or without you. Did they make a difference? Have you made a difference? Does it really matter?

There may be a few who remember your life but, for the most part, the world will never even know you lived. To them, the seven billion, you were an unknown inhabitant of a planet hurtling through space around a small star that will someday experience its own demise.

Birth, life, death: it's a curious thing. Where does it begin? Where does it end? Does it really end?

Someday, in the thick black void of nothingness or the warm bright light of the afterlife, I'll know. We'll all know. Or... will we?

R. H. Politz - Saturday, January 28, 2012

Excerpt - Fish for dinner?

2012-01-06T20:58:00.000-08:00

Caryn's Magic Towne - A Christmas story for children of all ages - Rated "G"

Excerpt:

A few days later, he was hurrying to finish his work and so focused on cleaning the last fish he didn’t notice his partner walking up behind him. "Hey, that's a really nice fish you have there, George," exclaimed Ollie with a great huge grin!

It startled George so that he straightened up with a jerk, lost his grip on the fish and up into the air it went! "Whoa ––" he yelled reaching after it. "Come back here you!" he sputtered while his hands flailed all about grabbing at the errant fish. It bounced from one hand to the other and, for a few seconds, sounds of his half said words and sputtering metaphors filled the air until he finally regained his grip.

"Whew," he breathed as he put the fish down and glared at his partner with a very annoyed expression. "For crying out loud Ollie," he yelled. "Don’t sneak up on me like that! You scared the bejeebies out of me. I hate it when that happens!"

"Oh, gee... Sorry George. Um, is that fish for us, tonight... you know, for dinner, for you and me?"

"Well, it almost wasn’t you idio ––" Catching himself in mid-sentence, he sighed and continued. "Oh, never mind! Yes Ollie, yes, it is. We had a good catch today and I saved this one for dinner."

With an embarrassed flush on his face, Ollie looked more closely at the fish. "Yeah, that’ll be really good with that rice thing you make sometimes, and those little green balls –– or, um, I mean sprouts. That’s it, yeah, sprouts. Oh boy! I’m getting hungry already!"

"Well don’t get too hungry yet, we still have work to do before dinner!"

"Oh, okay George, I’ll go get the wagon so we can finish work and start dinner."

It took only a few minutes before Ollie was back with the wagon they used to move fish from the dock up the hill to the icehouse and George was gazing into nowhere, deep in thought, scratching his chin and smiling about something.

"Here we are George, wagon. Oh, and I changed the pulleys so it’ll be easier to pull up the hill. Now we can take more at a time so we can get... done... faster.... George… George, are you here? I've got the wagon."

"Hmm, oh yeah, what Ollie?" mumbled George as he awoke from his daydream. Did you get ––"

"Yeah George, right here, wagon, big wagon, ready to load so we can finish and have dinner..." He leaned close and whispered, "Remember... fish, rice and green balls?"

"Oh –– Right –– Good! Hey Ollie, I have an idea. Let's hurry and put the rest of our catch on ice so we can go see if Caryn’s Magic Towne is all set up and decorated yet."

"Oh, gee, I don’t know George. Those soldiers wouldn’t let us in last week, remember?"

"Yup, I remember" he said with a grin. "That’s why we’re going to sneak in past the roadblocks and the soldiers."

"Sneak ––? Oh yeah... sneak into Caryn’s Magic Towne... that’s a great idea! Then the soldiers won’t see us and send us home again! Um, how are we going to do that George and, um… do you think we can sneak in for an early peek tonight…? Can we, can we… huh… tonight… pleezzzzzzzz…?"

George squinted at Ollie for a second and shook his head. "Isn’t that what I just said?"

"Oh, right, I guess you did. Okay but we have to put these fish on ice first…. Don’t we?"

George rolled his eyes and started picking up crates. "Sometimes I wonder about him" he muttered.

He reached for another crate but stopped when he saw Ollie just standing and watching. He stared at him for a second, then, clenched his fists and yelled, "Well…? Don’t just stand there like a dumb statue! Get a move on and help me put these crates on the wagon!"

George's sudden outburst startled Ollie and it hurt his feelings. He jerked backward a step or two and his expression turned into a childlike pout.

"Okay, okay…! You didn’t have to yell George. I’ll help. I always help… whenever you need help, I help! I do what you tell me and then other things too."

His voice died to a mumble as he picked up a crate, put it on the wagon and turned to get another one, all the while grumbling. "I always help. He didn’t have to yell. I would have helped. He knows I would have… didn’t have to yell. That was mean… yelling at me like that… humph…!"

George eventually realized how his outburst must have sounded. His head went down, hands to his face and he peered through his fingers at his life-long best friend. A deep sigh escaped his lips as guilt and remorse put a lump in his throat and words of apology in his mouth.

"I’m sorry Ollie… for yelling at you I mean… I, well… I lost my temper for a second." He hung his head again. "I really am sorry!"

The two men had been fishing the rich waters off the coast of Caryn’s Magic Towne and selling their catches to the local food distributor for most of their lives and consumers regarded their seafood as the best in the land. It was hard work but they both enjoyed the freedom of being on the open sea and doing such an important job.

George never thought of Ollie as the brightest person in the world but he was an excellent fisherman and an even better friend. Actually, they were more like brothers, family in fact. Even though he had already apologized, the lump stayed in his throat, his face remained red with embarrassment and he became very, very quiet.

As they continued to silently load the wagon, Ollie reached for another crate but George stopped him.

Ollie, that’s enough. Anymore and it’ll be too heavy to pull up the hill."

His partner hesitated for only a second before continuing to load crate after crate onto the wagon. George was puzzled. He knew how much weight they pulled up the hill every day and the wagon was already over their limit. "Stop!" he ordered but Ollie kept loading without interruption. "Stop, that’s enough!" he yelled, but crate after crate continued to be stacked onto the wagon by his silent partner.

George stepped back, took off his gloves and watched Ollie putting ever more crates onto the wagon. "I’m really sorry I got mad" he said again sheepishly hoping for forgiveness.

Ollie finally stopped and chuckled. "I know you are." Then he put a hand on George’s shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you. I know I don’t get it sometimes… and… and… well, I just wanted to make you um, stew in your own bed for awhile."

"Stew in my own bed…? Ollie, that's supposed to be stew in ––" Then, he thought better of correcting the man he had just verbally attacked. "Oh never mind. I get it. You’re right! And I guess I deserved that silent treatment."

Ollie smiled and stared at George for several seconds, still silent, gloating a little. He wasn’t going to let his partner off that easily.

"Okay, okay Ollie, I get it! I really did deserve it. You win. I was a jerk. Okay?"

"Yup, you were!"

George sighed. "Okay, are we done?"

"Yup...! Guess so!"

"Good, now, let’s get this wagon up to the –– oh no, look at it. Too full, too heavy; we’ll never be able to pull all this weight up ––"

Ollie put his hand on George’s shoulder and pointed up with his index finger as if to say "Wait a minute and watch this." Then he walked over to the end of the dock and began cranking a pulley wheel. The wagon started to move and George's mouth opened in total amazement.

"Ollie, how… how did you do that?"

"It’s just ship’s rigging George; block and tackle. I finished building it this morning."

George watched as Ollie easily cranked the heavily loaded wagon all the way up the hill and then examined the pulleys and ropes. "How did you learn how to build such a complicated thing Ollie?" he asked still trying to figure out the pattern of loops and blocks.

"I read a book George. You said we had no time to read the mail and you put it in a drawer somewhere, so, I read a book on ship’s rigging. Block and tackle, it’s the same idea and, it works!"

Ollie's invention did work, quite well in fact. So well they could pull three times the weight up the hill in each load. In short order, they finished putting their catch into the ice house and gave each other a "high-five".

"Good, we’re done, and in record time thanks to you," chuckled George. "Come on, let’s get cleaned up and go see what they’re doing to Magic Towne."

"Cool, okay George, let’s do it!"

Get the complete story at:

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For Kindle, Fire and any ereader or computer that uses the free Amazon reader app.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006Q4FXMY

Promotion Days - Free at Amazon - Sat Sun Mon

2011-12-28T17:12:00.000-08:00

A fanciful Christmas story for kids of all ages from 5 to 95.

Can the Fishermen save Christmas... and the Queen... and her Daughters...? George and Ollie have a lot to do.

Get it FREE during our Amazon promotional days
Saturday, Sunday and Monday
December 31, January 1 and 2

Exclusively at Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006Q4FXMY

For Kindle, Fire and any ereader or computer that uses the free Amazon reader app.http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006Q4FXMY

Just released - Caryn's Magic Towne - A Christmas Story

2011-12-26T08:15:00.000-08:00

Caryn's Magic Towne - A Christmas story for children of all ages - Rated "G"

Exclusively at Amazon - Read More - (And Amazon Prime members read free.)

Can two lowly fishermen save the Queen, her daughters and Christmas?

A small village in a remote corner of Caryn’s imagination where, once a year, the residents come alive to celebrate the spirit of Christmas:
She begins planning her theme in January but in the early fall, the real work begins. It takes a great deal of time to assemble her creation and she wants it to be perfect, after all, it’s more than just an ordinary display… it’s a feeling! It’s a spirit! It’s the joy of the season! It’s Caryn’s Magic Towne!
~
During the night, or when no one’s around, the village residents quietly stir. They have their own work to do and, this year, they have a problem to solve… a big one! You see, the Christmas celebration cannot begin until the Queen lights the village tree, but she’s going to be late… very, very late! Her children have been kidnapped! She is distraught, worried and focused on finding them. Well of course she is! Wouldn't you be? Christmas will just have to wait! This has never happened before. What to do… what to do...?

Excerpt from my newest book of magic and adventure.

2011-12-01T11:09:00.000-08:00

An excerpt from the Sequel to "After 2012"

Have a short read and tell me if you like it. Thanks for visiting.

Guiden Voss Awakens

~*~

It was that time of day when dark gives way to the faint rays of light from the eastern horizon. Surely you've seen what it's like. Everything becomes ever so slightly visible through the mist and shadows slowly dissipating from blackness, especially that of a dark moonless night. It is such a wonderful magical time but this dawn was even more than that.

He stood at the edge of a country road, a tall man of powerful stature, motionless, next to his horse, holding its reins with one hand, the other clutching the collar of a long leather coat. This man and his horse looked much like a statue planted on the side of a sparsely traveled country road. It was quite odd; quite real looking but quite odd just the same.

Suddenly, the man blinked, the horse shook its head and they began to move. A statue...? Obviously not! Something else was happening on this unusual morn.

One hand moved up from his collar to touch his face, the other instinctively gripped the reins of his horse when it whinnied and bobbed its head as if to say, "This is not a dream."

He took a very, very slow deep breath, rubbed his eyes as if finally awakening from a long winter's sleep and exhaled with a deep gravely sounding grunt. He was, in fact, there on a road, alive, and real, but had no idea why or how.

Ahead, buildings came into view through the thinning mist; a village or town of some sort? "That must be my destination," he muttered, "but something is strange... something––" But the stiffness in his neck and shoulders interrupted his train of thought so he rolled his head, stretched his arms and suddenly froze with his eyes wide open..., and felt it. Time...! Time was the culprit. It had changed, passed him by somehow. How could such a thing happen?

Squinting past the early morning sun at every detail revealed no clues and nothing remarkable caught his eye. The road was... normal... and vacant. The village ahead was as it should be and nothing unusual was in sight. He took another long breath and tried again. "Remember the past," he muttered to himself, "Remember the time before now."

Suddenly a scene flashed in his thoughts. Then another and another until he finally realized who and what he was.

"I can see the past," he grumbled softly. "I have the power," he pronounced in a louder tone. "I must see," he growled in a rasping powerful voice and concentrated with a force only a necromancer could muster. “Let-me-see-the-past!” he commanded. “Show me the moment I arrived at this place!" he bellowed throwing his fists up to the sky. "Show-me-NOW!”

Suddenly, a vision of his arrival played through his mind like a recording of events from long forgotten history. The horse was carrying him at a maddeningly slow pace carefully picking each step in the pitch black night and gradually approaching a village without benefit of moonlight or torches to reveal the ground ahead. The entire town was asleep. Streets, buildings, alleys and walkways were dark, hidden in predawn's dim eerie shadows so he stopped, dismounted and waited for the rising sun to light the way. Soon he could see the shapes of buildings dotting the main street and moments later, the detail of shops and their signs. He strained his eyes waiting for the approaching dawn and minutes later spotted his goal; faint white letters that read “Blacksmith”.

"Ah-ha, they’ll have a forge," he heard himself say. "That should do nicely!" But before he could take another step, a thick black cloud descended over the entire region freezing everyone and everything in place.

Clocks stopped ticking, people stopped breathing and Guiden Voss, the King’s most powerful necromancer, stood frozen like stone unable to move or speak. The sorcerer who had trapped Bixby and his people in an underground prison was now himself trapped by the amateur chants of his victim, miles away, delirious from lack of water and desperate to free his people before his own life expired. Bixby could only guess at the power of his garbled words weakly spoken with his remaining strength from the confines of a sealed library closet, but the effect was most powerful indeed.

Guiden focused on the spell’s makeup trying to see its source but all he could discern was opaque blackness and the suspension of time. The black fog would give up no further detail.

"Focus… concentrate… find the source!" he commanded. But something blocked his powers, something even more powerful than he prevented him from seeing the source of this accursed nightmare. With both hands on his face, Guiden concentrated even harder trying to break through, trying to learn why or how but, no matter how hard he tried, no other thing was revealed.

Suddenly, his trance was broken by a hand touching his shoulder. “Sir… sir… are you all right?” came a question from a stranger.

He jerked, opened his eyes and saw two men, residents of the village, who had come to his aid. They had seen him standing with both hands on his face shaking slightly as he strained to see through his vision’s blackness, making it appear, to them at least, that he was injured or having a seizure of some kind.

“It’s all right, you’re among friends,” said one. “Are you feeling ill?” asked the other. “Can we offer some help?”

Being quite unfamiliar with an act of kindness, Guiden instinctively held up his arms to protect himself before finally relaxing and saying, “I am quite well and am in need of no help. Do you live in this place?”

“Well, yes Sir… yes we do!” replied the older of the two.

“What happened here?”

“Happened…? I don’t know what you mean.”

“And you…?” He glared at the younger man who shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. “Does any person here know what happened last night?”

The two men looked at each other quizzically and the elder replied, “Sir, nothing of any consequence happened here last night. It was quiet and peaceful.”

“Humph!” blustered Guiden as he turned and walked away in a hurry. But as he questioned those on the street of the freshly awakened town, he received the same response, “Nothing happened. It was a quiet and peaceful night.”

"These idiot commoners are no help," he muttered with disgust mounting his horse. "Which road leads north?" he yelled. "I must see the King!"

Several people pointed back toward the road from which he came and one said, "When you come to the first fork, take the right most path but be careful. There are robbers on the way."

At last, someone with an answer, he thought as he spurred his horse around. "Robbers you say...?" he bellowed. "I have no fear of such pitiful fellows!" And with that, he galloped back down the road focused on finding out exactly why he was there in the first place.

If you haven't read the first story (After 2012), you can find it at: Amazon - Smashwords - Barnes and Noble

Mortgages - Where's the money?

2011-10-22T10:33:00.000-07:00

Refinancing your mortgage in today's America

Hey! You want to refinance or buy a house? Well, guess what! Today's low mortgage rates look attractive but actually closing on a loan is another matter entirely!

Getting a mortgage has recently become one of the most frustrating exercises in the financial industry. "DODD-FRANK" combined with thousands of bank layoffs has stymied the flow of money and changed what was once a few days to a two or three week process into several months of redundant detail and aggravation for both the borrower and the lender's employees trying to "get the deal done". Thanks Congress-People. We know there was a crisis but you've effectively regulated 2011 all the way back into 1933.

Consider a refinancing application from a married couple who have more than sufficient income, a FICO score of over 800, a LTV (loan to 'bank appraised' value) of about 40% and years of 'always on time payments' history with the lender. Pretty much a slam dunk huh? Even at today's historically low rates this is exactly the kind of extremely low risk mortgage lenders want to issue. So it would seem that once the borrower had submitted all the required documentation and received approval, the loan would (should) close in just a few days. But noooooooo! In this particular case the application was submitted in mid-August. An approval decision was given to the borrower on the 30th day (the last day required by federal law for the lender to notify the applicant of said decision) in September but, as of today (October 22), no closing date has been scheduled or even estimated. The reason...? New regulations and not enough people to do the paperwork...!

Now the lender in this case is the nation's largest bank. You'd think they'd be able to get it right. That's what I thought. I've had mortgages with this bank for years and the last time I refinanced, a bank employee discussed the details of the deal on the phone, came to my office two days later where I signed the loan docs and the 'refi' closed and funded two days later. From phone call to close took about five business days. Same bank, same type of deal but today, it takes three months... or more???????

Okay, so maybe we need updated legislation to keep the financiers from selling the same smoke and mirrors to unwitting investors but, to put the brakes on all consumer financing is ludicrous. Perhaps that's the way government works. Swing the pendulum all the way to the other side, look at the results for a few years or until the next election and then swing it all the way back. What happened to the logical middle ground?

I'm intensely curious as to when (or if) this refinance loan will close. Perhaps we are at a time to be recorded in the history books sometime in the future as the "Financial Revolution". Picture a time in the future when eighth grade students study the period when America fell into disrepair because the government squashed the business of credit borrowing when its own balance sheet was the worst in the nation. I wonder if we'll even have any schools left by then.

R. H. Politz - 22 October 2011

Continution: 9 November 2011

Like the little Choo-Choo Train puffing up the long steep hill, the funding of this mortgage is still
un-funded.

Oh the liability of the new mortgage AND the old one shows up on the on-line accounts but the where's the money?

Let's see, August, September, October and now November and it's still un-funded. Interesting especially since this refinance transaction, the old mortgage and the checking and savings accounts as well as the customer history are all in the same bank.Even more interesting when the Notary mentions that Quicken loans seem to go through rather quickly and easily.

I'll leave the conclusions up to you dear reader, mainly because I don't want to influence anyone considering with whom to refinance based on anecdotal evidence. But.....

Remember, this is just a single case. Or..., is it...?

A Tear for Yesterday. A Smile for Tomorrow

2011-09-24T07:41:00.000-07:00

You loved me once, I remember.
I remember your beautiful smile,
I remember your delicate fingers touching my face,
I remember your teary blue eyes and the way you sobbed.
I will watch over you from this ethereal place
for you are the only one who cared.
That gravestone you visit is not me
but I am here, invisible, unseen but ever watchful.
Though I wish to hold you again, I know it cannot be.
What I wish for even more is that you live a happy life.
You have many more years in your future
and they should be filled with happiness and love.
So I beg you, please, let go, move on and be happy.
That is the gift you can give me.
That is what you need.
That is what I want.
Make me happy and let me go into the past
and live your life to the fullest.

Newest Mystery Thriller

2011-09-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

As you've probably noticed, this book is still in the initial stage. Here's the cover.

Any comments?

A Father's Baby Girl

2011-09-20T19:35:00.000-07:00

Expanded and edited Chapter One. I'm getting closer, I think. What do you think?

* 1 * A Father's Baby Girl

"Wow it's hot out today," muttered a weary looking muscular fortyish man as he sat down at the bar. With a sigh, he removed his sunglasses, his New York Yankees baseball cap and ordered a "very cold beer" while blotting the sweat from his forehead with a bar napkin. "Is Robert Petrovitch here today?" he asked in a nearly exhausted tone.

"Robert.... Oh, you mean Colonel Bob?" queried the bartender.

"Yeah. I think that's right. Is he here?"

"Right there, sitting alone," she said pointing to the far end of the bar.

"Oh good, thanks! You think he'll talk to me?"

"I don't know why not," she said warily. "Why, who are you?"

"Oh..., nobody important but I was told he's the one to talk to about flying."

"Oh! Well okay then, I'll get your beer," she muttered over her shoulder while heading down the bar. But she walked past the cooler all the way to the end and whispered, "Colonel, that guy's asking about you. Do you know him?"

The Colonel looked up for a second. "Umm, nope, but he doesn't look dangerous. Why, who is he, a regular?"

"Nope, never saw him before. Says he's looking for Robert Petrovitch; thought I'd better let you know."

"Thanks sweetie. I appreciate that. Send him down."

Marlene turned and waved a "come hither" motion to the stranger who grabbed his glasses, cap and briefcase, approached and introduced himself as Mike Wilson, a writer who was doing some research for a book. "Can I buy you a drink Sir?" he added before sitting on the stool next to Petrovitch.

"Sure. I'll have another. I understand you asked about me. What can I do for you?"

"Well Colonel, I'd like to––"

"Just call me Bob."

"Oh..., okay..., Bob. But she, um, I guess everyone here calls you Colonel Bob."

"Ha, yeah! Some people do. It's a Kentucky Fried Chicken thing but Bob will do just fine."

"Okay! Bob it is. What's with the chicken thing? What, do you do, work for them or something?"

"Nope! But I had a good friend who was given a True Kentucky Colonel award by the Governor of Kentucky if that means anything to you."

"Ah––Right. That would have been Eddie Hicks. Right?"

"Oh, so you knew Eddie?"

"No. Never had the pleasure but I've learned about him and many others in my research. You're the one I can't find anything on or about. That's why I want to talk to you." He pulled out a notebook and added, "Do you mind if I take notes while we talk?"

Petrovitch stared at Wilson's tattered notebook for a second then leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. With an incredulous expression, his eyes grew dark as he stared deeply at the writer. Several more seconds of silence passed while the two men mentally sparred with the situation sizing each other up. Petrovitch broke the verbal impasse with a claim that there was nothing about him anyone would ever want to put in a book. "Come on," he added, "I'm nothing special. What kind of book is this? I'm just another old dinosaur having a drink and wasting a little time on a Sunday afternoon."

"Well, with all due respect Sir, that's not what I heard. As a matter of fact, I've been told some pretty fantastic stories about you. There are some who think you should have accepted the Medal of Honor and should be in the history books so I wanted to come to the source and get the truth!"

"Oh my God," laughed Petrovitch sarcastically. "You've got to be kidding! What is this, candid camera or something?"

Just then Marlene brought their drinks. "So, how's it going Colonel...., Mister..., Mike Wilson is it..., everything cool?"

Still chuckling, Petrovitch put an elbow on the bar, rested his chin in his hand, shook his head and said, "Marlene sweetie, I think someone has been making up stories again and Mike here believed them! Ha! Some things never change!"

A knowing smile flushed across the woman's face as she turned and silently walked away.

"Mike, look," began Petrovitch, "people make stories grow like weeds so," –– He picked up his glass of iced tea and held it for a toast –– "here..., a toast to those who can't see the truth to the fantasies in their imaginative minds."

They clinked glass to beer bottle, took a sip and Wilson mumbled, "You know... Bob, he said you'd deny everything."

Petrovitch squinted. "He...? Who, who is he?"

"The Congressman I spoke to just before he passed away. He said you would deny ever being, um, well, being who you were. That was several years ago. I believe he was your handler or contact or something. I've been working on putting this together for years and you're the part I can't pin down so I hope you'll help me. It would mean a lot."

Petrovitch raised an eyebrow and let out a long sigh. "Okay look, I don't know who you've been talking to or what they've said but there's probably nothing I can say that will answer any questions you have. So let's have a drink and enjoy the game on TV. You like football?"

The writer smiled, flipped to the back of his notebook and rattled off a dozen names. "Recognize any of these people?" he asked. Petrovitch's expression did not change. "Two people you went to school with, and we have a Senator, a Secretary of Defense, a Congressman and several former Marines; I don't know why they would lie to me. Tell me about when you were stationed on the Kitty Hawk."

"I was never stationed on the Kitty Hawk."

Wilson pulled a folder from his briefcase, opened it and placed it on the bar. "This medical record has your name on it with an "AKA" that's blacked out. So, I was wondering––"

"That could be anyone," Petrovitch blustered interrupting the writer mid-sentence. "Where did you get a confidential medical record anyway?"

"Freedom of Information Act, it's not classified or anything and it's been cleaned. Most of it has been blacked out, unreadable. That's why I need your help."

"Okay Mike, I get it. You're writing a book and you need something sensational to make it sell. But I don't have anything sensational to tell you. Besides, if you can get that record, you probably already know everything there is to know about me. And that's not much at all."

Wilson put the folder back and, with a pleading expression said, "Yes, I've got some records but the Marine Corps says they never heard of you and DOD says that you completed your six year draft obligation in a few months. From 1-A to 6-A in four months...? That's impossible! What's more, several people told me you saved their lives. Most refer to you as a Spook or a Ghost and that's why I'm so confused and frustrated! One record says you were here but another says you were there and another one says you were not even you!" Petrovitch chuckled as Wilson continued. "If you just give me the name..., or the names, damn, I need something! I've got three birth certificates and four passports that are supposed to be you but they're all different names. Can you at least tell me who you really are?"

Petrovitch shook his head and laughed. "I think you've got an impossible task Mike. I'm a guy who graduated high school, joined the Air Force, got hurt, went home and sold cars to make a living. Then I learned a few things and did some accounting work. Now I'm old and retired. Pretty simple huh? That's about all there is to know."

"Bob––Look–– I know you don't want to talk about any of this but I've got photographs of you, in the cockpit of an F-4J at Da Nang, another on the Enterprise. It was CV-64 wasn't it? I think that was an F-4C you were in front of."

"Well there! See? You've been given false information. I've been told that the Enterprise is CVN-65 and whatever photographs you have are probably of someone who just looks like me. No wonder you're so confused!"

Wilson pulled an envelope out of his briefcase and spread some photographs out on the bar. "Look at this one Bob. It's of a Marine fighter squadron on the Enterprise at Yankee Station. Recognize it?" Petrovitch offered no answer. "Okay. Look closely at the flight jacket in this later one from Kaneohe Bay. Right here, see the name? It says, Robert H Petrovitch, Lt. Col. USMC; and this one taken five years after that, Colonel, USMC. Come on Colonel, help me. If you don't, I'll have to run with what I have and fill in the blanks as best I can. And that could turn out to be highly inaccurate! Give me a break... Please?"

Petrovitch finished his iced tea, put a five dollar bill on the bar and stood up. "Okay Mike. You're persistent. I'll give you that. You hungry? I know a private little restaurant across the street. We'll talk." And, without waiting for an answer, the Colonel started walking toward the door.

"Well, wait..., wait a minute Colonel...!" sputtered Wilson gathering his things and hurrying to catch up. "Where are we going? Why not talk here?"

Without stopping or turning around, Petrovitch responded with, "Too many ears!"

It was a short five minute walk across the street to an Asian themed plaza where the front door of a Japanese restaurant loomed on a small building set apart from the many Korean, Thai and Chinese shops and eateries dotting the main structure. Wilson asked question after question on the way but Petrovitch looked straight ahead or back and forth at the traffic and never answered. A smile at one question or disbelieving expression at another was all Wilson got for his incessant bantering.

Once inside, a young Asian girl acknowledged their entrance with a bow and, "Welcome Colonel San. I tell Sheba San you here."

"Thank you Yushiko," replied Petrovitch. She bowed again and hurried away.

"Guess these people know you. Come here often?" Again, Petrovitch just smiled but gave no answer. "Okay look," blustered Wilson, "you said we'd talk. I think that means we both say things. I talk to you and you answer. Get it? Are you ever going to actually say anything?"

"Soon," Petrovitch replied.

Wilson sighed, shook his head and silently waited until an Asian man came out and spoke with Petrovitch in Japanese. Then, speaking in English, he turned toward Wilson and said, "I believe we have a table to suit your needs Sir."

They were taken to a private room separate from the main restaurant and seated at a table large enough for ten people. Wilson looked around in awe, stared at the perfectly aligned elegant place settings for a moment and then muttered, "I don't know how to use chopsticks. Can we get some silverware?"

Petrovitch grinned, spoke in Japanese again and, moments later, the table was cleared and a young man asked, "What would Mr. Wilson like to drink?"

"I could sure use another beer," he replied looking at Petrovitch for approval.

It took only ten minutes for Petrovitch's Sushi and Wilson's cheeseburger and salad to arrive. He lifted the patty from the bun with a fork to examine it. "Is this––"

Petrovitch nodded at the waiter, said, "Itadakimasu," and then held up his cup of tea toward Wilson. "It's Kobe beef Mike...; Prime beef. You'll like it. Kanpai!"

"Wilson gingerly took a small bite, then another larger one. "This is..., ummm, this is, Wow! This is like tenderloin..., this is good!"

For several minutes they talked about the food and other casual things but soon, Wilson's goal reappeared. "So Mike," mumbled Petrovitch through a mouth half full of sushi, "what's this, asking me about flying, thing you mentioned at the bar? What do you, Mike Wilson, a reporter, a freelance stringer for technology mags, really want from me? Are you really writing a book now or is this all about something you haven't even mentioned yet?"

"You know who I am?"

"I've read a couple of your articles."

"Look Bob, I'm really sorry for the ruse but I've been to every government agency, department and person I know and I can't get any answers. I'm desperate and I need your help."

Petrovitch wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back. "And exactly what do you think an old man like me could possibly do for you?"

Wilson rubbed his face with both hands and sighed before confessing his true goal. "My daughter," he blurted, "they said she's dead. We even had a funeral but I think she's still alive! You know people so I thought––"

"Whoa there cowboy...! Who told you she's dead and how could you have a funeral if she's still alive?"

This time it was Wilson's face that flushed with an incredulous expression. "The Marine Corps told me she died in a training accident but listen to this." A slight click on a small recorder played a message. I'm okay dad. Have to do a job. Snickers. This message was on my phone one day and I know it's her voice."

"Ohhh, well... I'm sorry to hear your daughter died. When did she leave the message, just before it happened?"

"No. A month after the funeral!"

Petrovitch folded his arms, put one hand up to his forehead, rubbing it and thinking. He looked past his fingers at Wilson for several seconds and then asked "Parris Island?" Wilson nodded. He let out a long deep breath and took a drink of tea. "What battalion, what unit, what everything; tell me who, what, where, when and why. But I can't promise anything."

Wilson beamed with joy as he began to put photographs of his baby girl on the table explaining the details of what he knew but the thing Petrovitch really noticed was the hope returning to a distraught father's eyes. Once again, Robert Petrovitch, the man who was only a civilian accountant, felt the pressure of life and death on his battered shoulders.

~*~

Why become a government spy?

2011-09-18T09:58:00.000-07:00

As a father, what would you do if your wife died in the twin towers (9-11), and, ten years later, your daughter was listed as having been killed in a training accident in boot camp but you thought she was actually still alive?

Mike Wilson is on a mission and now, it's personal!

First Chapter of Government Spooks and Ghosts

2011-09-07T11:41:00.000-07:00

This is the beginning (first draft) of a "Work in Progress" and I would love to hear your comments.

~ Foreword ~

Spooks, spies, operatives and covert assets are just some of the nicknames given to those who serve in the disavowed operations of many governments, but their true nature is that of a Ghost thwarting the ability of enemies to do harm to their country. Most are never seen by the public. Nor is their dirty, dangerous and sometimes unthinkable work ordered by administrations bent on protecting their nation or, in some cases, fanatically working to increase their power over others.

To be capable of doing this work, one must be truthful and yet a liar, honorable and loyal and yet an imposter. Such people are rare. But rarer still are those who ultimately survive for very long in the business of manipulation, destruction and death.

Occasionally, an individual creates a cover so deep and so complex, their true identity is never revealed..., to anyone! Occasionally, they spend a lifetime, invisible one moment and living a normal average existence the next. And occasionally, they survive.

This is a story about such an individual who lived through wartime and peacetime without being discovered but, as it has been said, "How do you give a medal to someone who doesn't exist for something that never happened?"

***

~ Chapter One ~

"Wow it's hot out today," muttered a weary looking stout fortyish man as he sat down at the bar. With a sigh, he removed his sunglasses, a New York Yankees baseball cap and ordered a "very cold beer" while blotting the sweat from his forehead and then added, "Is Bob Petrovitch here today?"

"You mean Colonel Bob?" queried the bartender.

"Yeah. I think that's right. Is he here?"

She pointed to the far end of the bar. "Right there, sitting alone."

"Oh good, thanks! You think he'll talk to me?"

"I don't know why not," she said. "Who are you?"

"Oh..., nobody important but I was told he's the one to talk to about flying."

"I'll get your drink," she said as she turned and headed down the bar, past the cooler and right to the end. "Colonel, that guy's asking about you. Do you know him?"

The Colonel looked up for a second. "No. But he doesn't look dangerous. Why, is he a regular?"

"Nope, never saw him before. Says he's looking for Bob Petrovitch; thought I'd better let you know."

"Thanks sweetie. I appreciate that. Send him down."

"Sure. I'll have another. I understand you asked about me. What can I do for you?"

"Well Colonel, I'd like to––"

"Just call me Bob."

"Oh..., okay..., Bob. But she, um, I guess everyone here calls you Colonel Bob."

"Ha, yeah! Some people do. It's a Kentucky Fried Chicken thing but Bob will do just fine."

"Okay! Bob it is. What's with the chicken thing? What, do you do, work for them or something?"

"Nope! But I had a good friend who was given a True Kentucky Colonel award by the Governor of Kentucky if that means anything to you."

"Ah––Right. That would have been Eddie Hicks. Right?"

"Oh, so you knew Eddie?"

Petrovitch stared at Wilson's tattered notebook for a second then leaned back folding his hands in his lap. With an incredulous expression, his eyes grew dark as he stared deeply at the writer. Several more seconds of silence passed while the two men mentally sparred with the situation sizing each other up. Petrovitch broke the silence with a claim that there was nothing about him anyone would ever want to put into a book. "Come on," he added, "I'm nothing special. What kind of a book is this? I'm just another old dinosaur having a drink and wasting a little time on a Sunday afternoon."

"Oh my God," laughed Petrovitch sarcastically. "You've got to be kidding! What is this, candid camera or something?"

Just then Marlene brought their drinks. "So, how's it going Colonel...., Mister..., Mike Wilson is it..., everything cool?"

A knowing smile flushed across the woman's face as she turned and silently walked away.

"Mike, look," began Petrovitch, "people make stories grow like weeds so," –– He picked up his glass of iced tea and held it for a toast –– "here..., a toast to those who can't find the truth to the dreams in their imaginative minds."

They clinked glass to beer bottle, took a sip and Wilson mumbled, "He said you would deny everything you know."

Petrovitch squinted. "He...? Who, who is he?"

"Okay look, I don't know who you've been talking to or what they've said but there's probably nothing I can say that will answer any questions you have. So let's have a drink and enjoy the game on TV. You like football?"

The writer smiled, flipped to the back of his notebook and rattled off a dozen names. "Recognize any of these people?" he asked. Petrovitch's expression did not change. "Two people you went to school with, a Senator, a Secretary of Defense, a Congressman and several former Marines; I don't know why they would lie to me. Tell me about when you were stationed on the Kitty Hawk."

"I was never stationed on the Kitty Hawk."

Wilson pulled a folder from his briefcase, opened it and placed it on the bar. "This medical record has your name on it with an "AKA" that's blacked out. So, I was wondering––"

"That could be anyone," Petrovitch blustered interrupting the writer mid-sentence. "Where did you get a confidential medical record anyway?"

"Freedom of Information Act, it's not classified or anything and it's been cleaned. Most of it has been blacked out, unreadable. That's why I need your help."

If you want to know what happens next, please stay tuned, subscribe and comment. And thanks for reading my work.

R. H. Politz

eBooks for Kindle, Nook, IPad, IPhone, PC's
and most other fine eReaders

www.Politz.com

Are All Women Beautiful and All Men Jerks?

2011-08-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

Absolutely NOT...!

There are many "Prince Charmings" and just as many "Wicked Witches" to go around but, yes, there are also Beauties and Jerks. Guess it depends on your perspective and what you want from others.

"The most beautiful women make the worst lovers." Hmmm..., well, I've found that many physically beautiful and apparently sexy women are, in fact, so focused on "self" that such a statement may be true, but not always! The same is true for men. If you happen to be blue eyed, tall, dark and handsome with a great physique and a two day beard growth (kept that way with a special electric razor for the movie part you're currently playing), you'll have more girls chasing you than you can count. For the ladies, any color hair works, especially if you have blue eyes, large breasts, a small waist, smooth skin and a great smile. (Yes, it's true, Blondes DO have more 'fun' and yes, it's true that if you have lots of money, looks are not so important.)

But what happens after that initial few days of, "God you're beautiful!", or that, "You are such a hot hunk!" period of adrenaline and pheromones? Do you speak the same language? Who wants to change whom? Does the irritation of changing your lifestyle start to set in? "She's/he's mine. Stay away!" One is a spender and one is a saver or one takes and the other gives; irritating and all too common in many relationships. "Buy me a new (fill in the blank) and I'll "let" you have sex with me," or, "You make me look good in front of my friends so I'll put up with your 'high maintenance'," are common in the "beautiful people" circle.

So, what do you want; A long term relationship, a "business" spouse and a discrete sex partner or just a bit of playing for a while? Choose wisely, if you can.

If you're lucky enough to find that person you see as beautiful, alluring, handsome, sexy, funny, comforting, supporting and attentive, HOLD ON FOR DEAR LIFE!!! And never forget that "LIFE EVENTUALLY CHANGES EVERYTHING."

So smile. It's your life after all. Make it the best it can be and enjoy every day for you never know when the dark night will come into your life with a vengeance.

R. H. Politz

eBooks for Kindle, Nook, IPad, IPhone, PC's
and most other fine eReaders

www.Politz.com

New Releases and Best Sellers - How To, Romance, Horror, and More

2011-08-28T13:07:00.000-07:00

So, you want to write a book or learn how to publish your story or read a good thriller, a steamy romance or women's novel? Of course there's Horror, Vampires, Wolves and other feared creatures as well. The list goes on in every genre and is always changing so take a look at the newest and best ebooks here.

http://www.smashwords.com/?ref=RHPolitz

You can browse, download samples and free books and probably find that new title you've been waiting for. Take a look, have fun and enjoy stories, instructions and humor from the best authors on Smashwords.

I don't want to watch the news anymore.

2011-08-14T10:24:00.001-07:00

I don't want to watch the news anymore; it's depressing. No matter what broadcast I tune in on, they're talking about riots and poverty or unemployment and falling stock markets. It's really, really, really depressing! Then there are the trials and judges and reality shows. Ugh! I even tried to watch a soap, then a game show but.... Okay. You get the idea.

You would think that paying a monthly fee equivalent to a small car payment for a couple of hundred channels with "on demand" should provide some entertainment for those few hours when one gets a chance to relax but, alas, 'tis not so. Although I did watch a great movie the other night; "Knight and Day" was the best, totally entertaining and extremely well done so I can't complain too much. Hmm, wait a minute. Yes I can!

~sigh~ Perhaps I'm being too negative. HEY NEWSCASTER PEOPLE! SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE? I think I've lost my smile and I have to do some writing - terrible mood - not good for writing at all! What to do, what to do? Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm....... I know. I'll write something angry, something depressing, something..., something..., Aw, nuts! I'll just write another erotic romance story to perk myself up. Now let's see, who can I interview for this one?

Robert. H. Politz

IBAX Management Services Corporation

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

http://www.politz.com

America's wealth spent by politicians...?

2011-07-23T10:41:00.000-07:00

(RHPolitz: I just received the following message that describes an interesting point of view and had to share it with you. If you're an average citizen, you might appreciate it.)

NO POLITICAL AGENDA HERE, JUST AMAZED AT THE FOLLOWING.

EVEN IF ONLY A PORTION OF IT IS ACCURATE.

SO WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG???

Remember, not only did you contribute to Social Security but your employer did too. It totaled 15% of your income before taxes. If you averaged only 30K over your working life, that’s close to $220,500. If you calculate the future value of $4,500 per year (yours & your employer’s contribution) at a simple 5% (less than what the govt. pays on the money that it borrows), after 49 years of working (me) you’d have $892,919.98. If you took out only 3% per year, you receive $26,787.60 per year and it would last better than 30 years, and that’s with no interest paid on that final amount on deposit! If you bought an annuity and it paid 4% per year, you’d have a lifetime income of $2,976.40 per month. The folks in Washington have pulled off a bigger Ponzi scheme than Bernie Madhoff ever had .

I didn't try to clean up the language in this message. It makes a better impact as it is.

Entitlement my ass , I paid cash for my social security insurance!!!! Just because they borrowed the money , doesn't make my benefits some kind of charity or handout !! Congressional benefits , aka. free healthcare , outrageous retirement packages , 67 paid holidays , three weeks paid vacation , unlimited paid sick days , now that's welfare , and they have the nerve to call my retirement entitlements !!!!!!.....scroll down..............

What the HELL's wrong??? WAKE UP AMERICA !!!!

Tuesday's Daily Bulletin paper, ran two articles on the front page side by side :

1- Calif 's 20 Billion Dollar Budget Deficit

2- The Calif Supreme Court ruling that ILLEGALS can attend college and get benefits.

Why don't they just deport them when they arrive to register?

3- Last year they ran an article on the yearly costs to Calif Taxpayers from Illegals using Hospital Emergency Rooms for their general health care -

At just one hospital the cost to tax payers totaled over 25 million a year

Someone please tell me what the HELL's wrong with all the people that run this country!!!!!!

We're "broke" & can't help our own Seniors, Veterans, Orphans, Homeless etc.,???????????

In the last months we have provided aid to Haiti , Chile , and Turkey . And now Pakistan ......home of bin Laden. Literally, BILLIONS of DOLLARS!!!

Our retired seniors living on a 'fixed income' receive no aid nor do they get any breaks while our government and religious organizations pour Hundreds of Billions of $$$$$$'s and Tons of Food to Foreign Countries!

They call Social Security and Medicare an entitlement even though most of us have been paying for it all our working lives and now when its time for us to collect, the government is running out of money. Why did the government borrow from it in the first place?

We have hundreds of adoptable children who are shoved aside to make room for the adoption of foreign orphans.

AMERICA: a country where we have homeless without shelter, children going to bed hungry, elderly going without 'needed' meds, and mentally ill without treatment –etc. etc.

YET.....................

They have a 'Benefit' for the people of Haiti on 12 TV stations, ships and planes lining up with food, water, tents clothes, bedding, doctors and medical supplies.

Imagine if the *GOVERNMENT* gave 'US' the same support they give to other countries.

Sad isn't it?

99% of people won't have the guts to forward this.

I'm one of the 1% -- I Just Did

(NOTE - RHPolitz: Whether the figures are accurate or not, the original author has a valid point.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.")

Politics: Follow the Money

2011-07-22T11:31:00.000-07:00

In order to do anything as a Federal legislator, you have to get elected.

In order to get elected, you have to spend lots of money campaigning.

In order to spend lots of money, you have to collect it from supporters.

In order to collect it from supporters, you have to make promises.

In order to stay in office, you have to keep some of those promises.

In order to keep some of those promises, you have to break other promises.

The promises you keep are the ones you made to those who bought you the election.

The promises you break are the ones you made to those who voted for you.

What are your goals...; Money and power or Morals and Peace with yourself?

Are you sure you really want to be a politician?

(Maybe I should write another book.)

Noah's Ark - 2012 - This time in America.

2011-07-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

The year was 2012 - (at least that's what the slightly inaccurate Gregorian calendar we all use said.) - And God came unto to Noah's descendent, "Noah the 999th." and said, "Noah, the 999th. descendent of Noah the first, it is once again time."

"Time for what my Lord," he replied meekly.

"It is time for me to again cleanse the Earth of the wicked and greedy."

"Oh. I see my Lord. I guess that means another Ark thing. Right....?"

"You got it Dude. Here are the plans. You've got six months to build it and fill it with two of every animal on Earth before I start the never ending rain for 40 days and 40 nights. Now get started. Time's a wastin!"

****

Six months passed and God, looking in on Noah's progress, was shocked to see the poor man sobbing and weeping in his back yard. "Where is the Ark?" asked God. "Have you done nothing these past six months?"

Noah fell to his knees and wailed, "Please forgive me Lord. I tried but things have changed since my great, great, great, great, great, great, great ––"

"Yeah, yeah. Enough with the great, great, grandfather stuff. I get it. Exactly what has changed? It's an Ark not a spaceship. This is not rocket science so, what is your excuse?"

"Well my Lord...." he began submissively, "first, I needed a building permit but they wouldn't give it to me because your plans weren't signed by a licensed architect."

A loud rumbling, Hmmmm..." echoed throughout the clouds. "Go on," said God.

"Then, the building inspectors said I needed a fire alarm, a sprinkler system and eight more exits. Oh, and a dozen more restrooms too."

God's brow wrinkled. He was not pleased. "Okay Dude," he roared, "just tell me the whole story would you. I'm about to start the rain and believe me, it'll be a real downpour."

"Yes my Lord," mumbled Noah. "Well, I finally got the permit but then my neighbors complained that an Ark wouldn't fit the neighborhood design and the HOA said it was too high. I had to go to the Planning Commission and also meet with the HOA officers. I'm still waiting for their decision."

God rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Things have changed since I last looked. So, you're asking for an extension...?"

"That would help my Lord but, there's more."

"Oh. I've gotta hear this. Please..., continue Noah the 999th."

Noah cleared his throat, took a deep breath and said, "Well...... the Public Works Department demanded a boatload of money to clear the power lines and other overhead obstructions for passage of the Ark to the sea but I told them the sea would come to us. They just laughed and told me to pay up or shut up and go away.

Then the Environmental Protection Agency told me I'd have to get the wood from China because American old growth timber is protected and new growth timber was already sold under license to the big corporations."

Noah took another deep breath and continued.

Then they said I couldn't use the type of wood you specified because the Spotted Owl likes to nest in those trees. Um, it's a protected species. I told them I would be saving two of every species including the Owls but, again, they just laughed and dismissed me."

God closed his eyes in disbelief and settled back in his heavenly throne.

"I started gathering the animals but the ASPCA stopped me saying it was inhumane to put so many animals in such a small space. I'm due in court next month to answer their lawsuit."

God then put his chin in his hands awaiting the rest of this dissertation on how the human society had matured. To laugh or to cry; He was undecided so he silently listened to Noah's plight.

"The EPA said I couldn't proceed until their environmental impact study was complete and they had ruled on all the changes I'd have to make. And the EEOC still hasn't told me how many minorities I have to hire for the construction crew."

God was leaning more toward laughing at this point but he remained silent wanting to hear the rest of this comedy of errors.

The unions told me I can't use my family because they aren't paid up members of their local and the Immigration department is still checking the work visas of the minorities who actually want to work. I had to sell my house and everything I owned to get the money to pay all the licensing fees but then the IRS seized my bank accounts to collect the taxes before I left the country."

By this time, God was silently chuckling and shaking his head.

"Department of Homeland Security just left after serving me a warrant to appear in court to explain your flood. They think it's a terrorist act and want to know my affiliation with the group that's planning to create havoc. I told them it was just you my Lord but they too just laughed."

God's snickering was becoming hard to hide but he maintained control and said, "Okay Noah the 999th, go on."

"So my Lord, after I appear in court, pay the fines, pay the licenses, pay the taxes and pay off the unions and the inspectors, they might let me start construction so an extension would be a good thing, say, about ten or fifteen years or so."

The clouds parted, the skies cleared and the day became one of a sunny fall afternoon. Noah looked up, astonished.

"Oh, thank you my Lord. Does this mean you're not going to start the rain today and destroy the world?"

God just smirked and sighed. "Nope. Don't have to destroy anything Dude. The Government already did it for me!"

Help me out. What's in the box?

2011-07-08T12:12:00.001-07:00

I need a little help with this scene. What do you think is in the little black box?

After quickly closing the door, she dragged Ralph's and Glenda's bodies to their chairs, placed them in a seated position and turned her attention to the cameras. Memory cards were removed and DVD's were scooped up before her attention turned to the computers. They were still logged in and a few keystrokes told her that any pictures they may have captured were being transmitted offsite.

Okay she thought. I'll use their own computers to hack their system.

She changed the user names and passwords and viewed their log in history. Now she had full access to all their files and the job was nearly done. Their wallets went into a manila envelope, the laptop computers went into the pizza hot box and then, curiously, she placed a small black box in each of their laps. It was a rather elegant jewelry type of box one would think contained an expensive watch or bracelet, definitely out of place in the seedy room.

Robert. H. Politz

IBAX Management Services Corporation

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

http://www.politz.com

Facebook's (possible) IPO - Are the numbers real?

2011-07-08T09:59:00.000-07:00

Facebook is saying they have around 750 million users but, is that a real number?

Most of the people I know have several user accounts. One lady has an account for each of her pet hamsters. Another, an author, has one for each of her books and, for various reasons, this seems to be a common practice. Add to that the accounts created by advertisers and, no matter what kind of math you use, 750 million "users" drops... radically!

Don't get me wrong. It's still a big number but there's no doubt that it's mislabeled. 750 million "Accounts" might be accurate but how many actual users are there? Perhaps half, or maybe a quarter...? Or maybe it's a well kept secret meant to fool the investors into thinking the company is much larger than it actually is. Whatever the reason, management's style of pseudo-transparency makes me extremely wary. How can one believe anything they say when something this blatant is being promoted as fact?

Further, when I consider all the "user" comments and see the changes Facebook has made over the last year, I can't help but wonder; Are the lofty figures touted by the company and promoted by the inside investors a bid to grow the product or merely a well disguised plan to exit the company with full pockets leaving the retail investors as the poor suckers who believed them?

I can't tell if this is a bubble about to burst or just good old public financial tomfoolery but one thing's for sure. The numbers just don't add up.

There was an old man...

2011-07-07T20:12:00.001-07:00

There was an old man, a craftsman of wood who made keepsake tables, chairs, chests and other beautiful things that would be lovingly passed down from generation to generation. "Wood has a soul," he used to say. "It must be treated with respect and honor as it brightens the lives of all those fortunate enough to posses it."

As a child, I watched him mold common boards and timber into works of joy. They were stained and hand rubbed, like satin to the touch with a beauty beyond anything I had ever seen before or after. "Take your time," he would say, "and a little piece of you will live in your work forever so make it the best it can be."

His word was his bond and he paid every debt, even at the expense of things he needed. "You are only as good as your word," he would say. "Your word is your honor. Never dishonor yourself."

Living a simple life, he never asked for much for himself. "I watch my children grow to become good people. That is my reward. I need nothing more." I remember him telling me that more than once. And I remember him paying in to a government system that promised a small retirement income and health care in his old age. But, when it came, when his body started to fail and the doctors told him they could operate but that it would cost a great deal of money, he questioned them.

"What about my government health care?" he asked. "I've paid my whole life. Do I get nothing now that I need it?"

"Medicare has been reduced," they replied, "and our fees have gone up. You'll have to pay."

He thought it over, carefully considering the cost of this medical service and adding up the value of everything he had saved. He considered his age, his now grown children, how much longer he might live if he had the operation and decided that leaving his children with nothing but bills was not acceptable.

"I wish to sell my house," he said to the realtor. "Get me what you can but I want the money by the end of next month. No later!"

Over the next six weeks sold everything he owned, house, furniture, automobile, tools and personal items. There was now enough cash to pay for the operation but, instead of taking it to the doctors, he put it into three envelopes each displaying the name of one of his children. Along with the money, he included a few photographs and a note that read:

"My darling children, I've been told that if I have this operation, I might live another year or two but, to have it will cost everything I own and I will have nothing to leave you. I'm saddened that, even though I've always paid my fair share, the rules have changed and I have to pay again or do without. The incredibly high cost is just not worth living a dozen more months, mostly as an invalid. So, in these envelopes is all that I have to give. I want you to have it instead of giving it to strangers who already have more than we ever did. The car they drive cost more than my house so I don't think they really need it anyway.

I hope I've taught you well but now, I'm going fishing. Perhaps I'll see your mother again. I hope so. I've missed her. Life hasn't been the same since she died. I'll think of you once in a while and hope you'll do the same. Be everything you want but don't ever dishonor yourself.

All my love, Dad."

Robert. H. Politz

IBAX Management Services Corporation

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

http://www.politz.com

Happy Birthday America

2011-07-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

2011 - The Fourth of July - A day to celebrate Liberty, Freedom and to remember all those who gave us this precious gift of a Republic ruled by Law.

Happy Birthday America! May the colors of our flag always fly over the greatest nation on Earth.

Graduating? Very Cool! Here's your Financial Plan.

2011-06-17T09:59:00.000-07:00

Congratulations for graduating...! And to help plan your life's goals, here's your financial roadmap based on the facts of life in America's 21st. century.

You may have heard it said, "Pay yourself first" by putting 10% of your earnings away for yourself. Well, that doesn't work anymore. Here are the new numbers:

You did some work that made the company $1,000 and they want to pay it to you. Cool...! But wait! The company has to pay several tax thingies first... on your wages... It's called Employer Payroll Taxes or something like that. Okay. That's a bummer but you still get paid... something.

Let's see. $1,000 less matching FICA-SS, FICA-MED, UEI, etc, etc... You get $700. Not bad huh?

But wait... There's more...!

Hmm, $700 less your FICA, Fed Income tax, State income tax, Health Insurance, Dues... leaves $500. Okay. FINE...! At least you get half of what you made the company. Now let's figure out what to do with all that net after taxes money in your pocket.

Open a couple of savings accounts in different banks. That way, when one or two of them get seized by the Fed, you'll get to keep your money as long as your balance in any one bank is under the FDIC insured limit. Hey... no complaining! It's easier than keeping books like an accountant.

MEDICAL-$100: Okay. So you have several accounts. What are they used for? The first one should be nicknamed, "MEDICAL", and you will be depositing $100 into it for the medical expenses your insurance denies. "What...!" you ask? "But I have insurance!" Right, you do but here are the facts. Insurance companies have a business model. It's called "Risk Management" (but a better name would be "Claims Denial"). When you get older and discover you are not bulletproof, you will discover things like "co-pay" and "annual deductible" and "(non) approved prescriptions". You will also discover that $200 services like lab tests are billed at $2,000. That's right. Ten times the normal charge. But don't worry. Your "co-pay" is only 10% or 20% if you have good coverage. Hmm, guess that means you're basically paying the whole bill anyway and the insurance company and medical provider is getting a profitable free ride on your money. Remember those insurance premiums? Okay. Enough of the medical stuff.

LEGAL-$100: The next bank account should be nicknamed "LEGAL" and you'll put $100 into it for hiring a lawyer. What, you think you won't ever need one? If you look at your co-worker with the wrong expression, you can be sued for "hostile workplace" or "racism" or "mental anguish"; and what about that divorce or auto accident? Oh never mind. It'll probably never happen. (Yeah-Right-Like that's not a fairy tale.)

IRS-$50: Now for taxes. Oh yes. There are more. Sooner or later you'll screw up a tax return because you missed a statement or didn't read the 14,000 pages of IRS stuff and they won't let you know till a year and half later when you owe twice what you would have if you'd paid it on time. Oh, and DO NOT HIRE A LAWYER FOR THIS! Your attorney will fight it and you'll wind up paying 10 to 15 times what it would have cost if you had just dealt directly with the IRS.

NEST EGG-$100: This is your retirement account and if you put this money in faithfully for the rest of your working life, you might have enough to rent an apartment and buy a shiny new YUGO to drive to the golf course.

Okay, we've got ummmmm..., $150 left for you to spend on entertainment, transportation, iPhones, oh, and food shelter and clothing; can't forget that.

See? That was easy wasn't it? Follow these rules and you will always have a dull boring life devoid of any ability to attract a mate or afford to have children and send them to college. But that's okay. You can still play video games.

Again, congratulations on your graduation. Don't forget to make your student loan payments.

The USA - Born 1776, Died 2012...?

2011-06-16T09:05:00.000-07:00

Is it different this time or just a replay of history?

In 1887 Alexander Tyler, a Scottish history professor at the University of Edinborough, had this to say about the fall of the Athenian Republic some 2,000 years prior:

"A democracy is always temporary in nature; it simply cannot exist as a permanent form of government. A democracy will continue to exist up until the time that voters discover that they can vote themselves generous gifts from the public treasury. From that moment on, the majority always votes for the candidates who promise the most benefits from the public treasury, with the result that every democracy will finally collapse over loose fiscal policy, (which is) always followed by a dictatorship."

"The average age of the world's greatest civilizations from the beginning of history, has been about 200 years. During those 200 years, these nations always progressed through the following sequence:

From bondage to spiritual faith;
From spiritual faith to great courage;
From courage to liberty;
From liberty to abundance;
From abundance to complacency;
From complacency to apathy;
From apathy to dependence;
From dependence back into bondage."
The Obituary follows:

Born 1776, Died 2012
It doesn't hurt to read this several times.

Professor Joseph Olson of Hamline University School of Law in St. Paul , Minnesota , points out some interesting facts concerning the last Presidential election:

Number of States won by:          Obama: 19          McCain: 29
Square miles of land won by:      Obama: 580,000    McCain: 2,427,000
Population of counties won by:    Obama: 127 million McCain: 143 million
Murder rate per 100,000 residents in counties won by: Obama: 13.2
McCain: 2.1

Professor Olson adds: "In aggregate, the map of the territory McCain won was mostly the land owned by the taxpaying citizens of the country.

Obama territory mostly encompassed those citizens living in low income tenements and living off various forms of government welfare..."

Olson believes the United States is now somewhere between the
"complacency and apathy" phase of Professor Tyler's definition of democracy,
with some forty percent of the nation's population already having reached
the "governmental dependency" phase.

What do you think... or do you even care? Most people pay no attention. It's called apathy.

(Don't bother me. I'm watching the game and the kids are too busy playing video games.)

The Business of American Health Care.

2011-06-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

New Rules:

"Hey Joe, how are we going to comply with these new health care insurance regulations?"

"That's easy Stan. For instance, we need to get $200 to make a profit on these 83xxx series of charges. So, we'll agree to accept $1,150 from the insurance company and bill the patient for the $200 for their percentage. Whether insurance pays or not, we still get our profit."

"Oh, I see. It costs us $50 to do the procedures so we'll always make our profit from the patient no matter what the insurance company does."

"Exactly...! Don't forget that the reason medical insurance even exists is to just pay for all the executives, lawyers, lobbyists, clerks and collection agencies. It has nothing to do with providing good medical care and the politicians like it to get votes. And, on top of that, the patients actually think they're getting some kind of benefit.... Suckers! They have no idea!"

"Yeah, I guess..., sounds kind of mercenary though."

"Oh come on. What are you, a boy scout? Patients are no different than any other customer. Fixing them is just like getting your car serviced... heh-heh... except we make fifty times what a mechanic does. They get grease on their hands and we get blood on ours. They're poor and we're rich. That's all."

"I don't know... I became a doctor to help people."

"Take a pill Stan. You are helping people. They'll pay anything to have us give them a few more months to live. Then, after they die, we turn our bills over to collection and take everything in their estate. The politicians are happy, the legislators are happy, the lawyers are happy and we get a piece of the pie. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. You didn't actually believe that Hippocratic Oath you took did you? Get used to it. This is a business... period."

After 2012 IBook available at Apple's ITunes store

2011-06-06T11:42:00.001-07:00

After 2012 - http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/after-2012/id433496148?mt=11

by R. H. Politz

View More By This Author

This book is available on your iPhone, iPad, or iPod touch with iBooks.

Description

Shape-shifters, ghosts, underground tunnels and dark towers, Diane's life changed from an average working mother to ruling a land of spells and magic. Her new job in a foreign land was providing all that she and her two daughters desired until man's fanatical penchant for conquest destroyed it all. Their lives would never again be the same. She had to accept the challenge. The alternative was death. Can they solve the riddles? Can they escape the black forest of ghostly soldiers? Who is a friend and who is the enemy? Together, Diane, Amy and Julie will be forced into an unimaginable life of strange creatures with mysterious powers but, will they live to see another winter?

$2.99
Available on iPhone, iPad or iPod touch.
Category: Action & Adventure
Published: Nov 20, 2010
Publisher: R. H. Politz
Seller: Smashwords
Print Length: 422 Pages
Language: English

http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/after-2012/id433496148?mt=11

Robert. H. Politz

IBAX Management Services Corporation

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

http://www.politz.com

Another Grain of Sand

2011-05-28T13:37:00.001-07:00

There are many famous people in every genre from Lady GaGa to Former President Bill Clinton to Oprah and on and on. But, for the rest of us, life is just that... life. We never win the lottery. Our great song never becomes a hit. We never quite make the cut for the NFL and no one ever offers us that multi-million dollar CEO job. We are always just another grain of sand on the beach.

I was jogging through the woods one day and happened upon a colony of ants crossing my path. Size does matter as my feet crushed dozens of small innocent insects on their way to a new home. They had no idea I'd be running along that path just as people have no idea what the weather will bring. Ants and people, there's no difference.

Oh don't get testy now. I'm not suggesting that humans and ants have the same intelligence. (Although ... nope. Better leave those people out this time.) What I am suggesting is that chaos rules us all; ants, bears, whales, birds and yes, people as well.

Have you ever wondered why? Of course you have! Why did he win the lottery and I didn't get a single number? Why did I work so hard to get a more respected diploma and she got the job? And the list goes on; ordered chaos. Why does something really stupid go "viral" and get three million views in a few days?

Perhaps your little neighborhood on the beach is pleasant. You're happy so you don't wonder or even care about such things. Or perhaps you believe that, "everything happens for a reason." What you truly believe you are is what you really are. And whatever you believe is true, will be, at least to you.

You are nothing more than an insignificant common grain of sand on someone else's beach... and the tide is coming in. But keep smiling and bathe in the sun as the water comes closer and closer to your little temporarily rented neighborhood. Perhaps you'll come back as a clam.

Robert. H. Politz

IBAX Management Services Corporation

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

http://www.politz.com

Memorial Day

2011-05-28T09:49:00.001-07:00

Take a moment this weekend to remember all the men and women who have and are now serving in our Armed Services.

"It is the soldier, not the reporter who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag." - Father Dennis Edward O'Brien, USMC

Murder and Conspiracy

2011-05-26T12:51:00.001-07:00

Detective Howard Andrew Blake was just biding time until he got a new partner and a new case.

Gerald Morgan Hall, fresh, young and inexperienced, had graduated college and requested the famous Blake so he could learn from the best. But their new case was complex. Two FBI agents were killed while doing what appeared to be mundane surveillance work. Was it really mundane? Who were they photographing? The detectives would soon find that this was no ordinary case and young Detective Hall would find himself in a firestorm of lies, treachery and conspiracy.

R H Politz

IBAX Management Services Corporation

Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

http://www.politz.com

Alex Eversen - 2 - Moving In

2011-04-10T12:27:00.000-07:00

The next episode is out.

Sarah and Stacy have some talking to do about this new addition to their life. And Alex has a decision to make.

Will best friends welcome this new development or become jealous? After all, how can a lesbian love a boy?

Alex Eversen, the pretty boy who found his dream girl, continues his ever changing life.

For Amazon Kindle
Barnes & Noble for NOOK
At Smashwords in MultiFormat eBook

Alex Eversen - First Love

2011-03-18T10:03:00.000-07:00

Alex Eversen - An Adult Erotic Romance Series by R H Politz

First Love - (First Book of the Series)

Sixth grade, the time of life when all sorts of new emotions appear. Some of them stay with us for many years and Alex was no exception. He never forgot the crush he had on a pretty eighth grade girl who moved away the following year. He never forgot her blonde hair, her smile or the way she made him feel. Adolescent feelings can form strong adult preferences and, for Alex, the image of his beautiful grammar school friend became his ideal woman.

But it was now time to finish college. He studied hard, he worked hard and there was little time for anything else... until that night... when she danced past the stage... and Alex would never be the same again.

Life in the Shadows

2011-03-05T18:07:00.000-08:00

At the end of a great world war in a dilapidated three room house, a little boy peered through the ice covered glass of his bedroom window and counted the boxcars of a passing train. It was, at least to him, a splendid view. The narrow street, a small embankment, two sets of rails, then the river and the rising bank on the other side created a world of wonder he was only beginning to understand. After all, he was only three years of age.

Several times each day a train would pass over those rails, some pulling long black tank cars, some with flatcars of pine logs but most were pulling painted wooden boxcars or sooty black gondolas filled to the brim with large chunks of coal. With the help of his older sister, he would count each car as it passed in front of that icy bedroom window. One, two, three, she helped him learn. Ten, eleven, twelve, more numbers every day and within a month, they counted all the way up to one hundred. Some trains pulled even more boxcars but the gondolas... oh the gondolas loaded with coal, there was no counting of those cars for when they passed, it was time to play. As the heavy train slowed to enter the nearby rail yard, chunks of the black carbon would vibrate over the edge and fall to the ground caused perhaps by shuddering brakes, slack in the couplings or a guardian angel providing fuel for heat and cooking in the subzero weather of the region. But no matter, it was time for coats and gloves, to run across the street and down the bank, to gather as much as possible and to bring the valuable treasure back to burn in the old cast iron stove in the kitchen. There would be hot meals and warm beds this night.

Murder? Or was it Revenge?

2011-02-06T12:34:00.000-08:00

http://www.Politz.com

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted or distributed in any form by any means without express written permission.

* 1 * Feet, Hands and Head - Gone

"Park here Detective. Forensics hasn't arrived yet," said the young patrolman choking on his words. His face was white, his stomach churned and his hands were shaking. "I've never seen anything like this before... body's over there."

Andrew Blake calmly got out of his car and looked toward the mutilated corpse about fifty feet away, took a long breath, shook his head and lit a cigarette.

"Who found him?"

"Man and a woman out for a run. They saw the body from that path up there... called 911 from their cell phone. Hey, I thought you quit smoking Andy!"

Blake sucked another puff of smoke deep into his lungs. "Yeah - Right! That lasted about a week," he growled. "Those health nuts don't have a clue what it's like on these streets. They wanted me to quit the scotch too... assholes...! How long before forensics gets here?"

"Any minute now... I'll––I'll be right back. Don't let anyone––" The young man's face turned even whiter, his hand went to his mouth and he bolted toward the nearest tree and vomited. Blake pulled a box of tissues from the car's console, walked to the tree and waited.

"Sorry... I just––"

"Forget about it. It happens sometimes. Here, wipe yourself off."

"Andy, you won't say anything to––"

"Never happened, didn't see a thing."

The first thing Blake noticed when he arrived at work the next morning was a new file folder on his desk. "Ah," he mumbled, "the preliminary from that mess yesterday, that was fast," He opened it and began to read. Unidentified caucasian male approximately 60 years old... followed by the usual statistics and one comment. Head, hands and feet not recovered. Standard identification procedures ineffective. Time of death undetermined.

"They always give the impossible ones to me," he said tossing the folder into his, "need more information" pile before heading to the coffee machine. His boss, Captain Reese, rounded the corner about ten steps ahead and drained all but the last drop of coffee from the pot.

"Morning Blake, I hear you've got a weird one. Got any leads on that headless guy?"

"Nope, he's just another John Doe at the moment. Are you going to make another pot?"

"I'll let you do it. It'll give you something to do while you're waiting for" –– then the Captain held up his hands as if to make quotation marks. –– "more information."

"Well," Blake answered as he opened the cupboard and grabbed a can of coffee, "it'll be a while before I have anything to go on. We don't even know who the guy is yet."

"News flash Blakey, the Mayor already called. This one's all over the news and he wants it fast tracked so you'd better have something soon!"

A disgusted expression flushed across Blake's face as Reese walked away chuckling. "And don't forget to change the filter Blakey boy," he yelled over his shoulder. "Good housekeepers are hard to find!"

Back at his desk, he began to sort through the stack of dead end case files looking for some possible connection. Hours passed. It was almost noon when his phone rang. "Detective Blake," he answered propping the handset on his shoulder and grabbing a pen. "Andy," said the excited caller, "you need to come down here. I found something on that John Doe."

"Good morning to you too Steve. Which one?"

"That... that gruesome one you guys found yesterday!"

"That was fast. I thought it would take you guys at least a couple of weeks to get to that one. Besides, I was just about to go to lunch. Can't it wait?"

"No Blake, it can't. Come downtown and I'll take you to lunch... and don't take too long. I'm hungry myself."

Blake signed out, hurried to the garage and drove to the city morgue wondering what the coroner could have possibly found on a corpse that had no head, no hands and no feet. At least I'll get a free lunch he thought as he signed in and headed down the hallway to the Coroner's office. "Okay Steve, this better be good because I'm really hungry and I've already wasted half an hour."

Doctor Stephen Frizzle looked up from his desk, chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Oh come on Andy, you would've eaten in that shop next to your office if I hadn't called. That slop'll kill you. We'll have a good lunch, something tasty and healthy."

"Yeah - Right, okay but... is that why I'm here... you babysitting me again or have you got something on that homicide?

"Oh-ho-ho-ho... have I got something...! You're gonna love this my friend. Your corpse has a serial number."

"What...?"

"Your unidentifiable cadaver, had a kneecap replaced and those replacement body parts all have a unique serial number. We're going to find out who this mystery man is very soon. Come on, let's go to lunch and relax for awhile. You're driving."

All the way down Broadway Blake grumbled about the Doctor's constant attempts at what he thought of as babysitting. "So, what's the doctor's prescription for lunch today... you going to make me eat all my veggies before I clean my room and do my homework?"

Look Andy, I promised Beth I'd look after you. It's been five years and you still haven't come out of your shell. If she were still alive she'd tell you there's more to life than just work and hiding from the world. You live on pizza and beer. You work seven days a week. You never go anywhere. What kind of life is that? She'd want you to move on so it's my job to kick you in the ass once in a while."

Blake, a hard crusty twenty year veteran who had seen the worst of the city went completely silent save a slight gulp and watery eyes. The muscles in his cheeks tightened as they pulled into a parking garage. He flashed his identification and continued on, still silent, deep in thought. The memory of his wife's death overwhelmed his thoughts.

Steve patted his shoulder and got out. "Today is Japanese day and it's my treat. Come on. Let's go eat some of those Sushi things we can even pronounce and I'll tell you more about your high profile case."

If you've read this far, thank you. Please comment and follow if you like it. - R H Politz